Red Rum
by Tickle Me Rainbow
Summary: He chuckles darkly, lapping up the remaining blood adhering Matthew's raw wrists, "Little Red, Little Red—you shouldn't have played with the Big Bad."
1. Dressed in Red

**RED RUM**

**SUMMARY: **He chuckles darkly, lapping up the remaining blood adhering Matthew's raw wrists, "Little Red, Little Red—you shouldn't have played with the Big Bad."

**PART I**

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**Dressed in Red**

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_Light feet padded against the dense, forest ground. Blonde wavy tresses sailed amongst the wind, stray curls sticking to the sweat slickened, pallid cheeks. His heart bashed repeatedly against his ribcage, trying to silence the chills of fear pumping through his veins. Indigo eyes contract in horror._

"_Matthew, Matthew, Matthew, Matthew, Matt—"_

_Bouncing off every tree, shrill chants of his name, echo throughout the woods. Quickened heavy thumps pursue after him, not even half a mile away. He knows they're getting closer. He knows, he knows, he knows—_

_Muscles palpitate, flexing with adrenaline as his nostrils flare to catch some air. Matthew wasn't sure how long he had been running; wasn't even sure if he was even still running. His skull was teeming with mystification, his mind drunk on anxiety._

_Within the depths of his conscious, he could feel himself reaching safety. At least, that's what he thought he was telling himself. Any words that formed in his head were incoherent and twisted into images of morbid destinies he feared would come upon him._

_As Matthew narrowly side-stepped the trunk of an aged tree, his gorgeous and alert indigo eyes never caught sight of the bulky shadowing looming close behind. His chest tightened heart on verge of failing him any minute now._

_It wasn't until an outsized hand clad in a dark glove, snatched him by a cluster of his golden locks, slamming his head against the side of the elderly tree. Matthew yelped, the whole left side of his face being scraped by the rough bark. Abnormal sized splinters invaded his unblemished skin, digging into his flesh. _

"_Tell me, Matvey, why did you choose to run?"_

_Matthew groaned; receiving a sharp clout to his side and painful blow to his torso. The hand engulfed his skull, cradling it tenderly, wounding his golden curls around their hefty finger. His face collided once more with the trunk of the tree; again, again, again, and again—each time harsher than the last._

_Every time Matthew's head was shoved into the tree, aggrieved cries ripped from his dry throat, his punisher would recite the taunting question: "Why did you run?" But he'd never get the chance to answer, his mouth clogged with blood and wood._

_After what seemed like forever, the tortured blond was peeled off the tree—which was caked in his blood—the nauseating sound of flesh being torn off reaching Matthew's right ear. The left part of his once darling face was mutilated; his swollen cheek swaddled with large gashes, darkened warm liquid oozing from them. His eye was shut tightly, splinters crowding the corners of it. Bloated and abused lips parted slightly, beads of red drabbling down his scarred chin. His bare feet, which dangled over an oversized root, were inflamed and bruised, coated in dried blood._

_He struggled to whimper when a hot blast of breathe ghosted the unmarred features of his face. Shivers raced down his spine when a nose nuzzled against his own, slightly bent one. A knot twisted in his gut when he felt jagged fangs graze his trembling skin. Bile caught in his throat as pointed claws poked from the fabric of gloves that gripped his hair firmly, burrowing their way into his scalp. Matthew stiffened at the animalistic growl that rumbled beneath the chest that was pressed closely into his shoulder._

"_You should know; that those who run, Matvey," it was spoken in a low tone, incising through the chilling night air, "never get very far."_

_And the night said no more._

* * *

Nimble, but nervous fingers tugged at the cumbersome, burgundy pull-over—a white maple leaf woven into the center—as Matthew Williams stood awkwardly before the full length mirror hanging in the hallway of his house. Those timid digits glided across his cheeks, pushing his falling spectacles back in place. Both arms returned to his sides, unnaturally delicate hands finding their way into the pockets of his worn-out jeans. A pink muscle darted out hurriedly to wet his lips, innocent indigo eyes observing his appearance in his reflection.

A tiny sigh was emitted from his glistening lips. He didn't like what he saw, yet it would have to do.

Matthew abruptly turned away from the mirror, shuffling uncertainly down the foyer; his head lowered so that his lengthy curls would drape over his face and block out the seemingly thousands of portraits that hung solemnly on each side of the hall. He halted— automatically adjusting the fine plush carpeting that had bunched together, with the heel of sneaker—eyes drifting toward the matured grandfather clock that waited impatiently for him beside the entrance of his vacant abode.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, breaking out into a run for the door. He couldn't be late again. Just because Gupta shrugged off the last _seventeen times _he had been late, didn't mean he was just going to over look his unpunctuality an eighteenth time…

"I'll be home late, your dinner is in the microwave!" the blond hollered, unbolting the door swiftly and grabbing his keys off surface of the small table, usually the place for bills and junk mail.

"Who?" the single word ricocheted off the paper-thin walls of the unfilled house, barely responding to Matthew's statement on time—

But it was already too late, for the door was slammed shut.

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Just for a heads up, NO VAMPIRES. XD But you could've all guessed that, right? And Pairings are undecided as of now, but suggestions are welcomed. c:


	2. Sealed with Red

**RED RUM**

**SUMMARY: **He chuckles darkly, lapping up the remaining blood adhering Matthew's raw wrists, "Little Red, Little Red—you shouldn't have played with the Big Bad."

**PART I**

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**Sealed with Red**

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Ivan licked his lips, his tongue adoring the way the water, ethanol, and flavored impurities aroused his taste buds. Lackluster violet irises scrutinize the hectic streets below, chapped lips forming a tiny, childish smile. He leans against the rusted rail of the metal stairway attached to an abandoned high-rise apartment building, enjoying the weak groan it released. A chilling draft, tickled the tip of nose; his short ashen hair ruffling with the bitter gust.

The Russian held a metal flask—an enigmatic embalm, shaped as a paw with four vivid jewel-incrusted claws, engraved into it—in one large leather gloved hand, rolling his wrist as his ears picked up the rhythmic swishing of the vodka inside. His tiny smile spread athwart his face, fascination stirring within his eyes.

Ivan jolted, the fire escape moaning in protest. His ears twitched, nose screwing up in bewilderment. Violet eyes search aimlessly, lurking from every blurry stature dipped in color, his hazy vision deciphering the faces his acute pupils locked on to. His free hand found the rail, giving it a firm squeeze.

For a split second, a twisted expression overtook his face.

Hoisting himself over the rail, Ivan plummeted down toward the sidewalk. He couldn't help but giggle. Clutching the engraved flask against his clad chest, he inwardly scolded himself, despite his distorted state of mind.

He wasn't drunk enough.

A troupe of teenage girls, babbling about their trivial high school drama, stepped in sync down the walkway. Each one broke out into hysterical shrieking as the Russian landed before them, his boots thudding against the pavement. They watched with startled eyes as the ashen haired male rose from his crouching position in favor of standing at his full height, smoothing out his beige coat with gloved hands. He glanced over his shoulder, beaming at them with a faux naiveté. His right arm shot out into the air, whilst he held his flask between his chest and bicep.

A pasty scarf fluttered from the sky, coming to rest upon his outstretched arm. In one fluid motion, he had it securely placed around his neck, the mouth of flask pressed against his own. The girls watched in awe, whispering future rumors that would float around their industrious city as the towering Russian strolled away.

Gulping down the last of his vodka, Ivan hummed under his breath. Violet eyes dilated; his conscious struggling through his foggy mind. Cars rushed around, the honking of horns and screeching of breaks rubbing against tar. Images faded in and out before his clouded vision. He giggled, his cheeks warm with a rosy tinge; his face brightening with each passing second.

He just wasn't drunk enough.

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Amber orbs with a tint of gold, lifted from the page they were previously reading, directing their attention to where the soft jiggle of bells emitted from. They landed on the shaking bespectacled blond, who was trying to catch his breath at the threshold of the exotic shop.

Closing the book and placing it down, Gupta straightened up at the counter, half-lidded eyes followed his delivery boy's every move. Adeptly, the copper skinned male raised his palm, hindering Matthew from crashing into the counter that stood between them. Gupta cupped the Canadian's chin, yanking him down to his eye level. Their noses brushed for a brief moment, Matthew's heavy pants fanning over Gupta's lips, which were pressed in a thin line.

Although the Egyptian appeared unfazed by their intimate, Matthew's cheeks indefinitely heated up. Matthew tried with great effort to not break the intense eye contact with his Boss, panicking at the way those somber amber irises bore into his own, nervous glaze. He was going to be fired; fired from his first stable job. Fired from the only occupation he had applied for with no complications, or being mistaken for some aggravating guy they had banned from ever setting foot in their establishment again. Crap, how was he going to support—

"—sleeping?"

Matthew blinked, mildly startled by the smaller man's voice, "H-huh?"

"Have you been sleeping?" Gupta repeated softly, bronze digits tracing the faint bags underneath Matthew's weary indigo eyes to empathize his question. The blond forced a smile.

"O-of course."

Furrowing his brows, Gupta frowned, narrowing his eyes at the other.

"Matthew."

"M-maybe."

Gupta let his hand fall away from his employee's face, resting atop of glass surface of his counter. Matthew inwardly groaned. He really couldn't lie to his boss. Especially when the man apparently had bullshit radar built in him.

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Matthew toyed with the edge of his pull-over, searching for the right words in his scattered brain. He bit down harshly, when he saw Gupta cross his arms. Oh crap, that meant he was starting to get a bit impatient. Which was odd considering his boss was one of the most patient men he had ever met.

"Y-yeah, I mean, it's just been kind of noisy at night lately." He lied, rubbing the back of his tensely, flashing the somber male a weak smile.

Gupta quirked a brow, inquiring Matthew in a monotone, "Are your neighbors being…" he halted in his sentence, blinking in thought before opening his mouth to speak again, "too frisky?"

Matthew choked, the color draining from his face, his mind processing what Gupta was implying. Seconds later, the blood rushed back as he wildly waved his arms in embarrassment.

"N-no, no, no, no, no!" he sputtered out, glasses sliding down his nose from all the movement. "_They're_ not keeping me up! At least, not like _that_!"

The Egyptian's mouth twitched, eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched the flustered blond attempt to worm out of this. _He shouldn't have fibbed_.

Gupta reached out to his employee's face one more, gently grasping the falling glasses. Matthew ceased his frantic actions, stiffening as Gupta's fingers brushed his skin. He adjusted them on the brim of Matthew's nose, skilled fingers instantly moving to flatten the disheveled golden curls. With a playful tug at the single curl that separated itself from the rest of Matthew's mane, Gupta nodded with satisfaction.

Matthew turned away, his face burning in humiliation. A smile flickered upon Gupta's lips, as said male propped his head idly onto his palm. A moment of peace passed over the shop.

"So," he began slowly, vigilantly keeping an eye on blond, "what is keeping you up?"

The corners of his mouth tugged downward; it seemed Gupta wasn't going to ignore the subject. Apprehension crept deep within his mind.

_A Dream—a very bad dream, haunting him every night since last week. It was realistically painful, always leaving him breathless and terrified whenever he awoke. He could never recall what happened during the dream, only lingering ache pulsing in his feet, and a throbbing from the back of his skull. His throat would be strangely sore—so sore in fact; he wouldn't be able to utter a simple word without having gulped down ,no less than ten cups of water._

"Was it by chance," Gupta spoke again, slightly disgruntled by the disturbing look in Matthew's eyes when the blond finally turned his attention to him, "a nightmare?"

Gupta was farther put off by Matthew's undaunted smile, indigo eyes shining with a similar optimism.

"Nightmares are for children," the Canadian chirped uncharacteristically, awkwardly messing with the edge of his pull-over, "Now, is there anything I have to deliver today?"

Gupta closed his eyes, nodding. He heard Matthew shuffle off behind the counter, probably to his locker. Letting his eyes flutter open, Gupta leisurely ambled to the back, a frown present on his features. He didn't like this one bit—but if Matthew wasn't going to tell him what was wrong… he shouldn't pry. But he was definitely going to get to the bottom of this when his delivery boy returned from his trip.

Seizing several boxes from Matthew's assigned stack, Gupta grimaced, his brows knitting together. _That_ was yet another irksome problem. A certain package had arrived to his shop from frightened man who seemed absolutely delighted to drop the package off in Gupta's hands. However, before the fidgeting male left his shop, he sniveled, straining to say, "A-A Mr. W-W-Williams must d-deliver this package, the m-mast—sender has requested it, a-and will p-pay greatly for this a-arrangement to e-ensue."

It did not help in the slightest that parcel itself was quite sketchy. With thick and gooey red stamp pressed right under the desired destination, which Gupta knew was located _just_ pass the woods. It would have bothered him greatly, if Matthew had to actually go through that horrid forest; but he also knew there was bus his dear employee could take.

Nevertheless, the one thing that truly perturbed the Egyptian man—was who the packet was addressed to.

**Why **did Arthur Kirkland sound so… _familiar_?

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Canada/Egypt hints for my papa.

I'm going to have a vast amount of hints for every Canada pairing known to date (even the ones I don't really like), until I decide on what pairing it will end with (thought, considering the way this is going, I'm having an extremely tough time picking who should end up with him… 8C) But your reviews have delighted me so much, I hope I can gather much more with this chapter. 8U TELL YOUR FRIENDS. SPREAD THE LOVE. BUY A BROWNIE. I want a brownie... XD

!! A quest has appeared! Matthew accepts!!

Oh, and Ivan is actually the _least_ of Mattie's problems in the plot as of right now—not that he won't be a major threat to our little red. ;D


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